What Hammet meant was that the STU was not interested in evidence or convictions in the conventional legal sense, but only sufficient evidence to convict him as another militia terrorist “in the court of public opinion.” Revealing to a few friendly reporters that Sorrento was “manufacturing pipe bombs” would neatly accomplish that goal. All of the necessary evidence would be found in Sorrento’s own garage and cellar, and would make for another great media photo op, almost as effective as the banned weapons lying on the tables outside of the Edmonds place, or the “assault rifles” being carried out of Shifflett’s trailer.
“The other guy who looks promising is Frank Gittis. It looks like Gittis is running. He told my CI that he’s taking off in his camper until things calm down, and the camper is gone as of this morning. He’s a retired building contractor, and he’s a widower, so if we grab him he won’t be missed.”
“Okay George, they look all right,” said Bullard. “Nice low operational signatures, and that’s what we want for right now. Joe, what have you got?
Joe Silvari, the leader of the technical support team, said, “We’ve got most of their cell phones pre-registered, almost everybody on the Black Water list. Whenever they dial out or they get a call it shows up in real-time over in our commo van. Gittis has been using his cell phone and a two-way pager today, so anytime he calls we can triangulate him to within 500 yards, plus or minus, depending. If he’s in a big camper, that should be easy to locate visually after we’re in his range. And once we get a tight fix on him and we’re in the area, we can hijack his cell phone whether it’s on or off, as long as it’s got battery power.”
“Okay Joe, we can go with that. Let’s nail down Gittis’ current position. George, you’ve got the names and addresses of the bars where Sorrento hangs out?”
“Right here Bob,” said Hammet, tapping on his notebook with his pen.
“All right then, here’s the plan. Tim, you take the Blue Team and get Sorrento. Snatch him on a parking lot; that’s probably your best bet.”
“No problemo Bob. Candy from a baby.”
“Michael, Gold Team gets Gittis and the camper,” said Bullard. “Use the tech support any way you want to. Get those lazy bums off their sorry asses and out on the road if you need them.”
Shifting on his chair Joe Silvari said, “Hey, I resemble that remark!” Sitting for a long period of time was uncomfortable for “Half Ass.”
Bullard asked, “Joe, can we use another Winnebago? After we take care of Gittis, I mean?”
“Sure, why not? We can convert it into another commo package, or just use it as a mobile base of operations and sleep five or six guys in it. No motels, no receipts… Or we can use Gittis’ camper for a black op, for a one shot mission. I mean, a Winnebago could carry tons of ANFO…maybe use McVeigh’s old recipe. Anyway I never heard of a ‘Winnebago bomb’, so that would be a first, that would be kind of a nice touch. And if we kept Gittis on ice we could stick him in it, and his DNA would be found all over the place. That plus the VIN, and hey, even the FBI could crack the case if you gave them enough time!”
The STU leaders grinned at each other around the table. Jaeger said, “Famous…” and the others replied in unison, “But Incompetent!” They all laughed again; they didn’t think much of the FBI’s legendary investigative prowess.
Shanks said, “It only took ‘em ten years to catch Robert Hanssen…after he practically confessed he was a Russian spy! Ha! And don’t even get me started on 9-11!”
The STU held the FBI in low regard as an outfit concerned only with their formerly brilliant public image, and not with breaking hard cases. The institutional ethos was exactly the reverse among the dreaded “jackbooted thugs” of the smaller but far tougher ATF. They reveled in their bad-boy reputation, and lived to bust the worst scum that America had to offer. If the FBI looked down upon them…so what?
“Question, Bob,” asked Michael Shanks. “After we go through the Black Water list… I mean, these guys aren’t going to stand around waiting in line for us, not after tonight…they’re going to take off, they’re going to run. Who are we going after next, after them?”
“First of all,” replied Bullard, “it’s great for us when they do take off. They always keep using their cell phones, and then we can just scoop them up just like we’re going to get Gittis tonight. And no one misses them, because they’re already on the run. If they head way out in the boondocks where these hunter types always go, that’s even better, because then there’s nobody around if it gets noisy, and we can rearrange the scene any way we want.
“And after we do finish up with this Black Water list, we’ll go to work on the contacts we pull out of them next door on the water board. And if that secondary contact list runs dry before all this militia terrorism crap is stamped out, well, then that’s Half Ass’ department. Right Joe?
“You mean…the predictive programs?”
“Right, that’s it. Tell the boys about it. It’s okay; they’re as cleared for it as anybody ever will be.”
Silvari shot him an “are you sure?” look, and Bullard nodded back a “yes.” The predictive programs were way out in “need to know basis” territory. Until now, only Malvone, Bullard, Silvari and one of Silvari’s computer geeks had known about them.
“Okay, well, this is pretty sensitive stuff,” began Silvari. “Not the theory, but what we’re going to do with it. This is not to leave this room, okay? The fact is we’re already making our next lists from our own predictive programs.
“These were originally dreamed up on Madison Avenue to tell advertisers what people wanted, before they even know it. It works so well, it’s almost scary. Computers mine all of the databases you can imagine, and then some. They check your credit card purchases back for years, they see where you’ve lived and where you go on vacation, the kind of car you buy, the food you eat, ten thousand things that add up to ‘you.’ Then they compare that ‘you’ to everybody else, and then they see what folks like ‘you’ just bought.
“Did you ever call a catalog company to make an order, and at the end they ask if you want to hear their list of ‘specials’? Their computer just cranked out the list of specials it thinks you’ll want. Before data mining and predictive programs, they used to average about a ten percent hit-rate on the ‘specials.’ Now they get over 80% sales! Think about it; the computer can guess what you’ll want to buy next, 80% of the time.
“Everybody who found out about this got very excited, as you can imagine. CIA, FBI, NSA, everybody. Then after 9-11, there was a big push to use the predictive programs for catching Muslim terrorists, to find the sleepers by their credit cards, their movements, memberships, phone usage patterns, everything. ‘Brilliant’ data mining at its finest: that’s the essence of the ‘Terrorist Information Awareness’ program. And let me tell you, it works. They get a lot of false hits, but they catch a lot of bad guys with it too. A lot of them, more than are ever reported in the media.
“Anyway, Malvone got access to some of the predictive program algorithms, and my number one computer geek Charles changed the parameters. Now we can tap into the TIA program and use it for finding our own home-grown terrorists, based on the ones we’ve already busted and jailed over the years. The program looks at the vehicles they drive, the magazines they read, the websites they surf…and of course their credit cards. With gun nuts that’s especially useful, because they buy so much from catalogs and on the internet. I mean, if somebody ordered five thousand rounds of AK-47 ammo in 1999, it’s pretty obvious what kind of weapons he has.
“So we’ll just aim our own version of the predictive program at a zip code or a town, and it’ll spit out the most dangerous right wing nut jobs. It’ll bird-dog the next Shiffletts or McVeighs, the ones who are really out on the edge.
“So that’s where our next list of targets is going to come from: from our own in-house predictive programs. And since we’re not in the business of building court cases, it doesn’t really matter if they�
�ve technically broken the law yet or not. And anyway, with these gun nuts, you can always find something! You know, a gun they bought in one jurisdiction that they failed to register properly when they moved somewhere else, or a barrel that’s too long or too short…
“And no matter what happens to the guy, you can always make it a ‘gun accident’ or a ‘premature bomb’, and there’ll be enough incriminating evidence in his house to make it fly in the press. So that part’s easy. But if by some miracle a guy on the list actually turns out to be squeaky clean, well, we still have the militia ‘drop guns’ that Malvone gave us, just in case...”
The STU Team leaders were silent, absorbing the meaning of what they’d just heard. The cutting-edge STU Team was going to smoke out the most dangerous gun nuts and Constitution fanatics using an advanced computer program, and the TIA databases. This was just about as “proactive” as it could get! No more waiting around until after the bomb went off, or the politician was assassinated.
“Way cool,” said Hollywood Tim Jaeger.
“I like it. I really like it,” said Michael Shanks.
“I told you boys when you joined the STU that we’d be way out on the tip of the spear, and I didn’t lie to you,” said Bob Bullard. “Okay then, go and give your teams their warning orders. Joe, get a close fix on Gittis ASAP. Anything else?”
“Yeah,” said George Hammet. “Tonight’s ops look pretty easy, pretty straight forward, so I’d like to go home and get some down-time. I’m still playing ASIC at the Norfolk Field Office, so while you guys were all relaxing today and sleeping in, I was back at Edmonds’s place in a suit playing patty-cake with the Fibbies. And I still have to put in regular office hours tomorrow: look, I gotta sleep some time.”
“All right George, go ahead, take off, and we’ll see you when we see you tomorrow,” replied Bullard. “That’s it then? Okay, warning orders now, mission briefings at say, 5:30 in the classroom trailer.”
“Oh, one more thing,” said Hammet, already heading toward the door, “Make sure you catch the CBA evening news at 6:30. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
****
Wally Malvone was pacing his basement club room with a Tanqueray and tonic in his hand, channel surfing the cable news networks for domestic terrorism stories, while waiting for the CBA nightly news. The assassination of Virginia Attorney General Eric Sanderson was still getting heavy play, but it was now being coupled with what looked like a botched traffic stop, where a man in a black pickup had been shot and killed by police in a case of mistaken identity. The man in the black truck had been mistaken for Sanderson’s assassin, the mysterious “water-hazard fisherman,” AKA the “golf course sniper.” Malvone considered this a “two-fer,” because neither man’s death was the result of STU operations. This was a strong indication that his program (after the initial pump-priming) was becoming self-sustaining.
During the six PM news cycle, the shootout and crossfire massacre on the Suffolk highway exit ramp was receiving the most coverage: it was photogenic as hell even with no VIPs among the dead and wounded. Best of all, the two dead ATF agents were bound to cause federal agents nationwide to go onto a hair-trigger posture, seeking payback against gun-toting “Constitution fanatics” everywhere.
Aerial shots taken from news helicopters panned across the entire ramp area, then focused on a burned-out SUV lying on its side against a police car. The camera zoomed in until boots were visible sticking out from under a green soldier’s poncho, which apparently covered a body next to a desert-painted humvee. Ambulances with flashing lights maneuvered slowly through the scene, more ambulances and medevac helicopters were parked along the top of the ramp. The highway had been closed to allow its full use for medical evacuation, and it was backed up for miles in both directions.
It would be a stretch to call this a “terrorist attack,” since it had reportedly started with an elderly civilian going berserk and shooting the two ATF agents, which had subsequently triggered the accidental crossfire situation. One national television pundit compared the old gunman to a Palestinian suicide attacker, and wondered aloud if it was a harbinger of more non-Islamic “suicide attacks” to come.
Nine were now confirmed dead on the exit ramp, and even if it could not be laid directly at the feet of the Black Water gang, Malvone knew that most viewers seeing this news coming out of Suffolk Virginia would readily make the connection on their own. So he considered the highway exit ramp “tragedy” to be another freebie, self-generated from the climate he had created. It would be added to all of the other previous incidents going back to the stadium, and after each new outrage his STU Teams would be expanded, multiplied, and given greater freedom of action. He was already the President’s “go-to guy” for domestic terrorism, and as long as the STU could produce visible results, it would flourish.
At 6:30 Malvone flipped to CBA to catch the nightly national and world news. The CBA logos and theme music faded and he was pleasantly surprised to see Pete Broker himself, “The Most Believed Man in America,” at the anchor desk. If Pete Broker was coming in on a Sunday night two weeks after the Stadium Massacre, it meant he was breaking a major scoop. Hammet had reported at lunch time that a CBA film crew had followed the joint FBI/ATF recovery team to the Edmonds place (following his own telephoned tip off) and Malvone was eagerly anticipating their report.
“Good evening America. There have been several new developments today in the War on Domestic Terrorism; another assassination of a public official, in Philadelphia this time, and a tragic crossfire shootout at a firearms safety checkpoint in southeastern Virginia.
“We’ll return to those stories in a moment, but right now I’d like to report a major positive development, a CBA News exclusive report which may, I underline may, bring us closer to exposing the shadowy militia organization behind the last two week’s outbreak of violence, which began with the Stadium Massacre, and continues to this day.
“CBA investigative reporter Richard Mentiroso has this exclusive report from Suffolk, Virginia, the home of stadium sniper James Shifflett, where a mysterious house fire last night has claimed several lives, and possibly exposed a terror network.”
****
Brad and Ranya were back aboard Guajira, cozily snuggled together sitting on the settee behind the dinette table, watching the news on Brad’s 12-volt black and white television. After returning to Poquoson with both the truck and Ranya’s Yamaha, they enjoyed a fresh seafood dinner at The Crab Shack, and then returned to Guajira on the inflatable. They had been watching the local TV news coverage of the aftermath of the highway checkpoint mayhem on CBA (only because their antenna reception was best on that channel) when Pete Broker himself came on with the national news.
Brad said, “Oh man, he looks terrible. What is he, a hundred years old?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t watched him in years. He’s disgusting, he’s always sucking up to commies. You should have seen him with his old buddy Fidel Castro; you’d think he was interviewing Jesus Christ.”
“Hey, more news from Suffolk!” Brad exclaimed. “The checkpoint must have made the national news. Let’s see how CBA spins it.”
****
Pete Broker continued, but he was not talking about the checkpoint fiasco. “Richard Mentiroso’s complete report will be broadcast later tonight on a special edition of CBA Timeline at nine PM eastern. Go ahead now Rich, and tell us what you’ve found in Suffolk.”
“Thanks Pete. I’ve spent today with officials from the Joint Domestic Terrorism Task Force here on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay, where CBA News has been given an exclusive opportunity to observe as the FBI and ATF have literally been digging into the Tidewater Terror connection.”
Mentiroso was wearing a safari-style jacket, holding his microphone while standing in front of a field full of charred timber and blackened rubble. A tracked backhoe was lifting a load of muddy debris out of a deep hole with its steel-toothed bucket, and swinging it over onto the side with whining groans. A p
air of opposing chimneys stood as silent sentinels, towering over the operation.
“Until yesterday, the pit behind me was a mansion belonging to wealthy Virginia businessman and land developer Burgess Edmonds. Sometime last night a fire erupted, and the three story home was completely destroyed, as you can see.
“The Domestic Terrorism Task Force immediately became interested because it turns out that Mr. Edmonds had been on a watch list as a member of a so-called “gun club,” which also included among its members stadium sniper James Shifflett, and Green Beret veteran Mark Denton, whose jeep exploded one week ago in Norfolk. You will remember that Mark Denton was allegedly on his way to plant a bomb in the Norfolk Federal building, when his explosive device went off prematurely.”
Brad and Ranya were motionless and silent, carefully studying the visible aftermath of the fire they had watched early in the morning from their previous anchorage in the mouth of the Nansemond River.
“The Edmonds mansion was totally destroyed, and today federal law enforcement agents have literally been combing the ashes for clues. So far only a few badly-burned skeletal remains have been recovered, along with a virtual armory of illegal assault rifles and sniper rifles, as well as parts of mortars and rockets. Enough, officials say, to start a small war.”
The camera panned across several long portable tables set up in a row on the side of the driveway. Charred rifle barrels and receivers from AK-47s, M-16s, and long rifles with telescopic sights still attached were lined up in rows. A dour-faced federal agent in dirty blue coveralls stood behind the table pointing to them in turn.
“Pete, ATF officials here say that bullet shells from fifty caliber sniper rifles were also recovered. As we know, fifty caliber sniper rifles can destroy a tank or a helicopter two miles away. No fifty caliber sniper rifles have been recovered so far, leading ATF officials to consider that they may already be out there… in the hands of militia terrorists.
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